


Familiarity

by Solas_is_an_egg (SeedsPlease)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is a Softie, M/M, Sterek Reverse Bang 2017, stiles is an emissary, which essentially means druid to me lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 15:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeedsPlease/pseuds/Solas_is_an_egg
Summary: Stiles enlists Derek's help during a full moon so he can do some of Deaton's Special Homework done without fearing that some monster-du-jour will eat him. Derek is...less than thrilled.





	Familiarity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StaciNadia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StaciNadia/gifts).



The evening air tasted like frostbite on his tongue. He stumbled up the side of the hill, cursing as his shoelaces were stuck with brambles. He wiggled in his hoodie, trying to snuggle deeper inside it to warm the chill settling in his bones. 

He should not be out here, not at this time or in this damn weather. It’s illegal. And as usual, it was Scott’s fault. He should have known better, dropping him with so little notice. 

“Where are you?” He muttered, pacing in a circle and kicking at the leaves. He waited for a few moments, and when there was no change, he huffed impatiently and dug around in his pocket. There was a weak flicker of light as he tugged out his phone, accidentally pressing on the home button too much that voice control was activated. 

“What, no, I don’t  _ want-  _ argh!” Stiles cursed, pressing at his screen in frustration. The home was blank; there were no new messages. He tapped at his cover in annoyance, and buried the phone back inside his pocket with perhaps too much aggression and resumed his pacing. 

It took a few more minutes, but finally he saw the familiar figure emerging from the treeline. 

“You have no self-preservation, do you?” Derek said by way of greeting. “I heard you miles away.”

Stiles grimaced; he hadn’t thought to be quiet. He was lucky there was no apparent monster du jour to worry about, but he probably should have been slicker. It wasn’t his fault, really, he was a bit too focused on something else. 

“Self-preservation?” Stiles repeated, and then gestured wildly at Derek’s designated workout shirt and jogging shorts. “It’s freezing!” 

“ _ Stiles,”  _ Derek growled, somewhat in exasperation. “Werewolf.”

Stiles nodded, and tugged his fingers through his hair. 

“Right, of course you are,” he muttered, tapping his foot on the ground. “Well, order of business then, I guess.”

The business. Right. Which is all Scott’s fault. Stiles shrugs off his backpack- a gaudy relic from his middle school days- and rummages through it for the battery torch. 

“Before you say anything, yes I  _ am  _ using a real torch instead of my phone  _ because-,” _ he raises a pre-emptive finger as though to shush the werewolf- “the phone torch drains battery so much and I would prefer to have access to reception in the very likely case that something goes wrong.” 

Derek levelled him with a stare but said nothing. 

Stiles fiddled with the torch and it flickered to life. It was a faint light, not parting too much of the night’s gloom, and it made him wince. He was anxious enough about this situation, he’d much rather be doing this with as much visibility as possible. 

He turned his head to the werewolf, who was looking more agitated by the second. Well, to be fair, being summoned with no explanation would do that to a man. 

“Right. Sorry, I wanted you here for a reason,” Stiles reassured him, tapping his fingers against the torch handle. “I don’t technically  _ need  _ you here, but I don’t trust how this will turn out, because being completely honest here, none of our plans ever turn out exactly like we want them to and I can’t risk screwing up so badly because, _hello_! Vulnerable human here, in case you hadn’t noticed and”-

“ _ Stiles,”  _ Derek ground out through a clenched jaw.

“Okay yes, I’m rambling, sorry. Anyway, I need you here to help me.”

Stiles cast a glare down to his heavy pre-puberty bag and assorted collection of items begging to spill out from its bulging zipper. 

“I just...I need to do this stuff tonight,” he continued, somewhat sheepishly. “Deaton is too hit-or-miss to risk relying completely on for help with this stuff, but I don’t trust myself. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my mind tends to, um… wander.” 

Derek’s eyebrows rose, but he stayed silent. 

“I need to focus. And this is the best way to do it, I think. I’ve done my research, full moon’s tend to add some level of focus, whether celestial or completely psychological, to a practitioner. Well, hopefully...to me.” 

The werewolf nodded slowly. 

“It’s possible,” Derek said, a slight crease to his brow. “I’m not the best person to ask; Peter would know more about this than me.” 

This time, it was Stiles who raised his eyebrows. 

“Really? You think asking Peter for something would  _ ever  _ be a good option?” 

Derek’s lip curled and he gave a small chuckle. 

“Maybe not,” he agreed. “Though, I’m still not seeing where I’m coming in here, Stiles.”

Stiles rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, and winced. 

“Look, I… I get too focused on these things. It’s an obsessive- compulsive thing, probably,” he began to explain. “I just don’t notice what’s happening. Around me, that is. And I don’t know about you, but stumbling around unfocused in this death-trap of a forest probably isn’t the best idea.”

“You want me as a bodyguard,” Derek finished for him. 

Stiles opened his mouth but shut it quickly after.

“Yes,” he huffed out. “Though I wouldn’t say it in those words.”

The werewolf rolled his eyes, but there was a smug expression on his face. 

“I can keep watch on you, Stiles,” he said, giving a meaningful look at the heavy bag beside the human. “But you know my focus won’t be as strong as usual, either.” 

“I know that,” Stiles hurried to say, “but that’s why I asked you. Out of all of our present furry friends, you have the most control over yourself during the full moon.” 

Derek frowned at him, but nodded. 

“Why not Scott?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest. Stiles adamantly refused to look at his biceps. “He has admirable control for an alpha, and you smell enough like him that he’d recognise you as pack even if he did lose control.” 

Stiles scowled, remembering his slacker of a best friend. 

“He promised he’d help me last week, actually,” he told the werewolf, “but that was before he remembered his  _ abuela’s  _ birthday.” 

Derek grinned, but had the courtesy to at least try to hide it. 

“You’re angry at Scott for celebrating his grandmother’s birthday?” He asked, and Stiles thought there was sarcasm in his voice. The gall.

“Yes.”

The werewolf raised one eyebrow.

“Okay, no,” he sighed. “But, I am angry he didn’t tell me until an hour ago.” 

Derek shook his head, poorly masking his exasperation, before he stared up at the rising moon through the forest trees.

“We might want to get moving now then,” he said. “It’d be best to be further into the woods before the moon fully rises.” 

Stiles grimaced, and swallowed audibly through a gulp. 

“Right, let’s go into the creepy woods with a temperamental wolf who may or may not find me annoying enough to rip my throat out with his teeth at the best of times,” he rambled, hefting his bag over his shoulder. “Brilliant idea, Stiles. Deeper into the woods, where no-one can hear you scream.” 

The werewolf rolled his eyes as they began to slink into the heart of the forest. 

 

It was only after many off-pitch renditions of “Into the Woods” that Stiles finally decided that they had found a suitable place. 

Deaton had told him practice was always best done away from the distractions of civilisation and Stiles had figured it would be best to go to the reserve for this work. It would be better, after all, to try to restrict all druid activity to the one area. 

The river was less heavy in the clearing they’d found, and the water was calm enough to sit next to without the distraction of rushing water. Stiles wandered over to the bank and surveyed the clear river. The moon was yet to reach its peak but it still rippled brightly against the water. Through the darkness, he could almost swear he saw a fish dart through the shallows. 

He dropped his bag to the ground, where it landed with a heavy thud. Derek watched him from a few meters away as he pulled out a towel with an assortment of marvel heroes dotted across it. The towel was quickly set down on the grass and Stiles shuffled into a comfortable position. He gave an uncertain look over towards the werewolf, and then patted the free space beside him. 

“There’s enough room for you, if you want,” he offered, a bit pathetically. The towel suddenly seemed abysmally small. “Sorry, I completely forgot to bring another.”

Derek almost laughed, the whites of his teeth shining in the darkness. 

“Stiles, I’ve been through these woods at least once a week for most of my life,” he told the human. “If I was uncomfortable with the ground by now, I’d be worried.” 

Stiles pouted, and plucked at the string of the towel. 

“Us city-dwellers need our comforts, you know,” he replied, before dragging the bag closer to his knees. “The offer’s there if you change your mind.”

He reached into his bag and began to pull out a various assortment of items he’d prepared for this night. There were two basic cushions which he promptly fluffed up and slid underneath his butt- “For good posture, Derek, stop judging me!”- and three or so books. One such seemed large enough that Derek may have even reached to call it a ‘tome’. 

He soundlessly approached the towel and peered over the titles, eyebrows raising further  with each one. “Gods and Fighting Men,” was one thing, but “The Mysticism of Magick and the Occult” was...interesting. 

Stiles noticed him with a small jump, but quickly followed his stare.

“Ah, yes. Well, the local library had a rather limited collection on these sorts of things,” he admitted, cheeks and the tips of his ears blushing a bright red Derek was only able to see with his enhanced vision. 

“Riveting material,” Derek replied with the slightest hint of a drawl before he stepped back. 

Stiles drew out a notepad, and awkwardly tried to arrange it on his lap next to another book while still holding the torch. When that failed, he huffed and shoved the torch handle into his mouth while balancing the book on his lap. 

“Deaton hasn’t taught you a light spell yet?” Derek asked, frowning. To his knowledge, it was one of the easiest spells to learn for an emissary. 

Stiles gave a strange mixture of a laugh and a yell of frustration.

“Deaton’s rules. An hour of magical history, and then I can practice  _ his  _ approved list of magic,” Stiles explained, disappointment evident. “Like it’s homework.”

Derek chuckled, and gave a private thanks to Deaton for imposing some guidelines on Stiles with his spark. The impulsive human was likely in a candy store with the sudden option of magic, and Derek shuddered to think of what trouble he could get in without a tutor. 

Stiles was silent for a few minutes, pouring over the list of contents of the book. Derek made himself comfortable underneath the branch of a nearby tree, and craned his neck to stare up at the moon. With every second he could feel it creeping underneath his skin and deeper into his blood, as he had since he first grew into his shift. 

His mother had sensed his increasing susceptibility to the moon with each month, and had come to the conclusion that he was going to be another werewolf. His elder brothers Michael and Frederick had already passed the age where a wolf would reveal itself in a human body, and though they’d never said it, Derek knew his parents were concerned that Laura was going to be the only wolf in their family. So it was with great joy that his mother had taken him and Laura for their first run through the woods, while his father and his brothers followed at their own pace. 

Sometimes Derek swore he could remember that night; it had rained earlier in the day and everything smelt heavy but refreshing. He had fallen behind his mother and sister multiple times, but always managed to find them again. Their scent was something ingrained in his senses, and no rain would ever wash it away from him. 

“Candlelight,” Stiles spoke up suddenly, drawing Derek from his thoughts. The boy was holding the book away from him, and his eyebrows were high on his forehead. He saw Derek’s stare, and gestured to the page. His voice became comically low and ominous. “‘This book is meant to be read beside candlelight, let the powers of fire banish evil spirits and protect the magical secrets of this book.’”

Derek scoffed; humans really had some strange ideas sometimes. 

“Ugh, I think it’s probably going to get worse,” Stiles groaned, skipping through a few pages, “I think I just saw a mention of voodoo.” 

The next ten minutes consisted of Stiles giving a very vocal and irritated commentary about the logical inconsistencies of this particular book. 

“Wicca is not interchangeable with witchcraft, do your research, it isn’t hard,” Stiles moaned, flicking to another page. “Wicca was only founded in the 1950s, while witchcraft and contemporary ‘paganism’ has been around a lot longer than that. Ugh.”

Derek wasn’t going to lie, it was amusing to hear Stiles’s thoughts, even if they moved to a different train quite quickly. 

‘The Book’ ordeal was ended abruptly by Stiles tossing the wretched thing to the side with a disgusted noise. It landed at Derek’s feet, and the werewolf looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“It used a Romani slur,” Stiles explained, glaring at the book. “For the ‘mystical’ aesthetic. Never have I wanted to throw a library book in the river before. I’ll just tell Dad it was for the good of the people. That should get me out of a library fine.”

Derek chuckled, leaning down to fetch the book. He moved over to Stiles’ haphazardly settled pile of belongings and dropped it down.

“Yes, I’m sure the Sheriff will think that’s an excellent reason for destruction of public property.” 

Stiles scowled, and leaned over to pick up another one of his books- though this time, Derek noticed, with less excitement.

He began to sift through the pages, with gradually increasing interest. As the time passed, he began to shift uncomfortably, and pawed at the sleeves of his hoodie, as though he could drag them down any further. Derek frowned, and focused closer on the boy. It was only when he noticed the shivering that he realised what was happening. 

“You should have told me you were cold, Stiles,” he scowled, standing up away from his tree. “I can make us a fire.” 

Stiles failed to hide his reaction to the prospect of warmth, but he did manage to sigh. 

“I didn’t think it mattered that much. I’ve got my hoodie, I’m not going to die,” he explained, tugging at the hem of his aforementioned hoodie. 

“You need to be focused,” Derek reminded him. 

“I have matches in my bag for candles, but I don’t have anything else.”

“There’s a camping ground a few minutes away,” Derek said, looking off to the east. “People usually leave left-over supplies behind. I’ll be a moment.”

Stiles sat in disbelief for a few seconds, and then sighed. Derek always did make his mind up quickly, and once he’d decided to do something, he certainly never wasted any time. Still, Stiles thought it was only polite that he could help out as best he could in the meantime. 

He pulled a small spade out from his bag- he was expecting some spells would require burying things- and found a sparse area that would serve. He dug a decent pit and then waited for the wolf to return. He didn’t think it would be wise to try and focus on studying while he wasn’t being watched over. If Derek was right in thinking that the camping ground was only close by, then logically Stiles knew that he would easily be able to come back if he heard trouble, but Stiles didn’t want to risk not being able to notice something sneaking up on him on his own. 

The wolf finally returned with multiple heavy stones in his arms. Stiles allowed himself a moment of envy for werewolf strength and a moment of weakness for the shape of those biceps. Derek took a look at the small pit that Stiles had dug and lowered the stones down beside it. 

“I was about to do that, Stiles,” Derek told him, placing the stones around the pit. “Probably faster too.” 

“Ouch, low blow,” Stiles placed a hand over his heart. “We’re not all blessed with super speed. I just figured it saved you time.”

The werewolf shook his head, and then gestured towards Stiles’ towel.

“Don’t you have work to do?” 

Stiles grimaced, but obediently wandered back over to his area and plopped back down onto his glamorous reading towel. He didn’t start to read yet though, and instead watched as the werewolf began to gather up kindle around the clearing- there was certainly not a lack of materials around for that.

“If you don’t feel the cold like humans, why do you know how to make a fire?” Stiles asked, drawing his legs up and resting his chin on his knees. “Did you have camp outs? Did you eat toasted marshmallows, because let me just say it’s weird imagining a werewolf doing that...I mean, it’s just so  _ normal.”  _

Derek was quiet for a few moments, busying himself with his task. 

“I had human siblings, too,” was all he said as an answer. 

Had... Of course. Stiles felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, and he could feel the blood rushing out of his face. 

“Shit. Derek, I’m…I didn’t realise. I’m…” He trailed off. He didn’t want to sound like those people he remembered at his mom’s funeral, distant relatives and strangers who apologised for the death of a woman they’d never even known. 

Derek nodded mutely. 

“I know,” all he said. 

After a few minutes of silence, Stiles handed the matches over, and the fire crackled to life. The human took up his reading again, pouring over the pages with less commentary now that he had already put his foot in his mouth once this evening. As he read, however, he began to notice something else. Through the pops of the fire, he could hear scratching.

He looked up to see Derek fixated on one of his hands, the nails sharpened into fine points. The other hand was busy scratching at his own skin. 

Stiles’ eyes widened. 

“Woah, hey there, buddy,” he said, a rush of nervousness coming over him. “How you doing there?” 

Derek spared him a glance, his eyes briefly glowing blue for a moment before settling down. 

“It’s normal, Stiles,” he reassured him, calm despite the fact that his nails were currently busy tearing open his arm. “For me, at least.”

“Scott has never done this, Derek,” he said. “Derek, are you… are you self-harming?” 

The werewolf looked surprised for a moment, but then shook his head. 

“No,” he answered firmly. He looked down at his work, which was already beginning to heal. “I’m just...restless.”

“Restless?” Stiles repeated disbelievingly. 

“It’s been like this since I’ve been able to shift fully,” Derek said by way of explanation. “The stronger the moon gets tonight, the more unhappy I am in human skin.”

Stiles frowned. 

“Like Malia? She wanted to turn back  _ all  _ the time, though.”   
Derek shook his head.

“No, not quite,” he answered. “Now that I can shift fully, I hate being human when the moon is giving the wolf so much strength.” 

Stiles was quiet for a moment, picking at the edges of his book. 

“You can shift now, if you want,” he said softly. “I won’t mind.” 

“No,” Derek replied. “I’m probably going to be too distracted to watch over you.” 

Stiles bit his lip, looking down at the page of his book but not truly reading it. 

“I trust you,” he murmured after a moment. Derek glanced over to him, and their eyes met. “You wouldn’t abandon me.” 

Derek was quiet, and his hands stilled. The skin rapidly began to heal completely over. 

“You’re right,” he replied, not looking away. “I wouldn’t.”

Stiles nodded, beginning to feel the curse of awkwardness creep up around them. He hurriedly cleared his throat.

“But if you even look like you’re going to start ‘marking’ your territory, I’m out,” Stiles rambled with a wild gesture to the surrounding area. 

Derek huffed and shook his head. 

He stood up and stretched his arms out wide. Stiles didn’t even try to peek up his tank top as it rode up his chest. It was a proud moment of control for him. But then Derek started to take his clothes off. 

Stiles’ eyes went wide.

“Woah, woah, okay, slow down there!” He stammered out, hands slapped over his eyes. “Yeah, yeah I know you want to save your precious clothes, but can you do that somewhere else? Preferably where Stiles will not have to see?”

Derek scoffed, but did as asked, muttering something about “typical humans.” 

“I don’t need to have werewolf hearing to know you’re insulting me!” Stiles hissed in the assumed general direction of Derek. 

There was a rustling sound, and then the soft beats of paws against the ground. An insistent nudge against his hands gave Stiles his okay to look again. 

Every time he saw the wolf form, it made him stare. Wolf Derek was larger than any natural wolf, with strong legs and a sturdy body. The blue eyes stared at him through the thicket of coarse black hair around his face. 

“Hey there,” Stiles grinned at him, “nice to see you.”

The wolf plodded to the side of the towel and settled down next to Stiles’ abandoned book. Derek nudged it with his snout and levelled him with a meaningful stare. 

“Fine, fine,” Stiles pouted, picking up the book. He sniffed. “You’re no fun.”   
Derek huffed in reply. Stiles liked to think that was a laugh. 

With the warm fire happily crackling away and a wolf cozied up to his side, Stiles passed the remaining study time with ease, sifting through the pages of old Celtic stories. He hummed in interest and would occasionally read something out to Derek. 

“This is interesting,” he said, pointing at a passage and reciting it. “‘Figol, son of Marnos, the Druid, was asked then what he would do, and he said: ….to the men of Ireland every breath they breathe will be an increase of strength and of bravery to them.’” Stiles paused and tapped his fingers against the pge thoughtfully. “It sort of reminds me of what Deaton said when he spoke to me about my spark. That I am not the one who fights, but who gives the fighters strength.” He frowned, glancing down at the wolf to see if he understood. “I don’t know if that made sense...doesn’t matter,  _ I  _ understood it.” 

The wolf huffed again. Stiles thought it was a frustrated huff, this time. 

Once an hour was up, Stiles slammed the book shut, causing the wolf to jump at the suddenness of it. 

This seemed to delight the human, who was of course miffed due to the countless times Derek had snuck up on him. 

“Oh, Derek,” he whispered dramatically, “how the turn tables.” 

Another huff.

“I know that’s not the saying!” Stiles hissed back defensively, “that’s why it’s funny- oh, nevermind, shut up.” 

He happily started to shove the books back into his bag- giving a particularly hard stare at The Book- and then pulled out a small journal. It was worn, and looked too old to be Stiles’. The human flipped open the book and eagerly began to follow down the first magic instructions that Deaton had given him. 

“Damn,” Stiles seemed to visibly deflate. “It’s just recharging.” Sensing the wolf’s question, he explained while he began to sift through his bag for the needed items. “Deaton’s told me about it before, it’s just setting some things out underneath a full moon as a way to cleanse and recharge them.” 

He gestured down at the items he was placing carefully in front of him. There was a pile of tarot cards unwrapped from an old scarf with the faintest hint of lavender that Stiles held onto for just slightly too long. Next to them were multiple home-made charms, likely previous spelled items Stiles had worked on with Deaton. The last item was a simple ceramic bowl. 

Stiles picked it up and gently filled it from the river, and angled it so the moon would reflect onto the water’s surface. 

When he came back to sit next to Derek, he found the next spell, and his excitement was palpable. 

“Yes! A light spell!” He grinned, reading through it eagerly. He leaned down to meet Derek’s eyes, and pointed at the page. “I’ve done this one with Deaton before, but he never wanted me to do it alone until now.” 

He sat up straight, and took a deep breath. He set the journal down carefully, and then clasped his hands in front of him. 

“Okay, Stiles, you’ve done this a million times,” he muttered, though Derek could hear his heart beating rapidly and his breaths shortening. He narrowed his eyes and rested his head against the human’s knee, allowing his presence to help calm him. Stiles glanced down at him in surprise, but then smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Derek. I’m okay.” 

He began to rub his hands together swiftly, then raised them to his mouth. Creating a small gap between both of his palms, he blew gently, as though trying to coax an ember among kindling. From just the middle of his hands, a pale spark came to life. 

“Yes!” Stiles hissed, angling his hands to show Derek. “I did it, I did it. Be proud of me, please.” 

The wolf huffed, but wagged his tail, making the human smile impossibly wide. 

The two of them waited through the next hour, Stiles frequently extinguishing his spark and then practising bringing it back again. When the time was up, and the moon was past its peak, Stiles returned his items back into his bag with one hand- not wanting to let go of his spark. After safely storing his moon water, he used the ceramic bowl to put out their dwindled fire. 

With his bag safely slung over one shoulder and his spark lit in his hand, he glanced down at the wolf. 

“Ready to head back?” 

The wolf inclined his head, and began to move through the deep trees at a steady trot, waiting for the human. 

Stiles followed him, spark light in one hand to show the way. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! This was my entry for the Sterek Reversebang 2017, and my artist was StaciNadia, so go check her amazing work out on the sterekreversebang blog @sterekreversebang.tumblr.com. Thanks!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Boy and Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245956) by [StaciNadia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StaciNadia/pseuds/StaciNadia)




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